A/N: You know how it is sometimes when you just sit down with no intention of writing anything, and something productive comes out? Well, that happened to me this afternoon, and this is what I came up with. Really angsty, post-Rent drabble, Mark's POV. Rated for implied suicide.

Disclaimer: I do not own RENT. Jon Larson has that honor.


Final Words

Ever feel like you're running and running, but you're not getting anywhere?

Yeah. That pretty much sums up my life. It's not as if I try to be a failure. In fact, it's just the opposite. I try to succeed, or used to. I try to please my parents...or used to. But when everyone gave up on me, I gave up on myself.

They used to tell me to 'Get my act together!' And I started to wonder how they defined 'together'. I had a job…for awhile, until I quit. I have an apartment. Okay, so it doesn't have power most of the time, and it hardly ever has hot water, but it's still a place to call home, right? I had friends…sure, they were lesbians and junkies and HIV-positive and cross-dressers, but hey, still friends.

"Cindy's on her way to being a doctor!" they argue, "You could be a doctor, too!"

Right. I'm twenty-seven, dropped out of college, and never paid attention to a single science class in high school. I would make a great doctor…by the time I'm fifty, if I could first manage to get my butt in motion. If I even wanted to be a doctor. Which I don't.

Simple truth I've learned – life is cruel. It doesn't care how much people love each other, it pulls them apart just the same. I watched it happen to all of my friends. I watched them slowly die, grieving for each other before succumbing to the disease themselves. I watched five coffins lower into the ground: first April, then Angel, Mimi, Collins, and finally Roger. And I could do nothing. Nothing. Maureen and Joanne moved away. They wanted me to go with them, but I couldn't leave. How can you leave the past behind when the future looks too desolate to bear?

The worst part? It was through the lens of my camera that I witnessed all this. I've recorded the memories, the awful truths, the grief, the heartache, the absolute hopelessness of it all. So that's why I feel like I'm running in circles. I spend more time reliving the old days…watching my friends die, over and over…than living in the now.

Why would I want to live in the now? There's nothing left for me here. I'm like a ghost, flicking in and out of lives in the blink of an eye. Unable to stay put, unable to anchor myself anywhere. Unable to move on.

Stuck.

Roger used to tell me, when he was sick on his deathbed, that he wanted me to move on when he died. That I couldn't give up.

Roger, I'm sorry I can't do what you wanted. I can't move on, and since I obviously can't go back in time, I have to stay right where I am.

Or maybe not. I've been thinking about this for a while…and it's time. I can no longer live with being the only one left. It's the end for me.

Goodbye, family. You never really understood me, but I know you always meant well and will be sad I'm gone. Goodbye, Maureen. I still love you. Goodbye, Joanne. Keep dancing that tango to Hell…I'm already there.

December 19, 4 pm, Eastern Standard Time…


A/N: So, have I got everyone feeling angsty? Review and let me know!